


crash through the surface

by shinyspinda



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Getting Together, Gift Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Other, POV Second Person, Pining, Reader-Insert, Sickfic, i dont write glee like ever so first glee fic ive ever written ever i guess fuck, i kinda write blaine like a mischievous asshole and ur just gonna have to take that, this is for my friend romie with blaine loving illness <3 hence sickfic, tsundere reader <3 love u romie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24661471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyspinda/pseuds/shinyspinda
Summary: A basic sickfic blaine x reader for my friend who has blaineitis <3 nothing serious i just needed inspoTakes place in an alternative universe when after Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, Blaine didn't flunk out and remained at the NYADA with the help of you, his pining friend.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Original Character(s), Blaine Anderson/Reader
Kudos: 5





	crash through the surface

**Author's Note:**

> i dont write glee fic its 2020 what is going on here  
> not my normal content sorry <3 ill hop on the given again soon im lame as hell
> 
> i fucking hate romie

You’d thought maybe your aching and sweating from the night before had been a case of bad luck from the Chinese takeout you had ordered the night before. However, when you woke up late for class with a fever and limbs like glass, you realized that was not the case. You won’t be going to school today. After taking a dose of Nyquil and sending a quick text to your good friend, Blaine, that you wouldn’t be able to attend class that day, you passed back onto your bed with your phone to your chest. You took deep breaths as you struggled to fall back to sleep. Of course, the sleep aids made your stumbling brain wander to your classmate.

It was the second semester of your first year at NYADA, and Blaine seemed to be the only real friend you had at the school. You got along with his friends, of course, and had made some other friends scattered among the busy city. Blaine felt different though. He had helped you through a lot, and you liked to believe that you did the same for him. It was only natural that you had a little bit of a crush on him, right?

You didn’t ponder this for long, however. The medicine soon took effect, muffling your thoughts to cotton and urging you to relax your eyes before falling into a sleep.

Either minutes or hours later, you woke up under too many blankets for comfort. Your legs wrestled with the hot covers for about a minute until your brain caught up with your body and you heard someone at the door calling your name. You groaned.

“Hey! You actually in there, or was that message your ransom?” The identity of the voice was made clear instantly. He was so obnoxious, you thought. It was like you could hear his smile from behind the door. Thinking about this made your chest warm, but that might have been your illness.

“You know where the key is…” you shouted at him, rather muffled through your covers. The message must have gotten through, however, as you heard the door unlock and open moments later. 

“I’m not sure why you don’t give me a key by this point, man. At worst I’ll just sneak in and steal your coffee when I run out,” Blaine shouted from the other room while he kicked his shoes off. He sounded rather chipper and confident today, but lately with Blaine, that was the usual. You sighed, and rolled over onto your side facing the bedroom door. 

“Or you’ll silently move in without paying rent,” you mumbled. It seemed he hadn’t heard you, his stride unbothered when he stepped into your room with a hand on his hip and a plastic bag balanced in his elbow. He placed the bag onto your bedside table. 

Blaine positioned himself at the end of your bed at your feet, and threw his ankle over one of his legs. His smile was bright as ever, only serving as a reminder of how you must look like shit right now. Mr Perfect Blaine Anderson wouldn’t even look this rough with radiation poisoning, you thought. He gestured towards the bag placed on the table. You glanced over, eyeing the Panera logo on the plastic.

“You look rough, Y/N,” he laughed, like an asshole. “I guess you weren’t just playing hookie, then. It’s not like you missed that much, at least…” Blaine gestured towards the warm bag again, and you sat up with a sigh. “C’mon! Soup! That’s what you get sick people, right?”

“Dude, I’m seriously not hungry. I just wanna rest.” you grumbled, yet still grabbing the food and putting it onto the blanket on your lap. It probably wasn’t safe to eat soup like that, but despite your objections, you were looking forward to it. 

Blaine reached across you, and opened the container for you. It wasn’t like you needed help though. “You snooze enough, man. It’s not like a little soup will kill you,” He looked at you with cocked brows, and big, mischievous eyes like an adventurous pup. “Keep being stubborn, and I’ll feed it to you myself.”

You unwrapped the disposable utensils from their plastic with a grimace. He didn’t actually mean that though, did he? Blaine was just goofy like that. Your forehead felt hot, and you had a feeling that the issue was bigger than your fever. To make it worse, Blaine reached the back of his hand to your head, You flinched back.

“Damn, that must be running pretty high. You’ve been drinking your fluids, right? Do you want me to go get you a glass of water?” He started to stand up from his spot, before looking down at you with uncertainty. You definitely hadn’t been drinking enough, but you also didn’t want Blaine to worry about you so much.

You cleared some phlegm from your throat. “It’s fine, Blaine, really… you don’t have any reason to dote on me like this.” Sheepishly, you swallowed a spoonful of the soup. It could have been chicken noodle, but it was hard to tell under the sensation of the scalding broth. You made an attempt to hide your discomfort. 

He moved his hands in front of himself defensively. “What do ya’ mean? I have plenty of reason! And, it’s not a big deal anyway. I got the soup with a coupon, so it’s not even like you have to pay me back.” he chuckled, and settled back down onto your bed. “Forreal, I owe you big time. Let me take care of you for once, Y/N.” Your cheeks burned. 

“Not really sure what you mean…” you replied, turning your head away. He moved your face back, though, firmly checking your forehead again. You tried your best to avoid eye contact.

“Course’ you do,” he smiled, speaking with an unfocused gaze. “Back when you hardly knew me, and when I was at my lowest, you still did your best to pick me back up. I don’t know where I would have ended up if I hadn’t had you to drag me out of bed every morning after Kurt and I ended it. Probably back in Lima, if I’m honest…” He blinked, and wiped some sweat from your brow with his palm. You hadn’t noticed how close he had suddenly gotten, considering that whatever cold you had was probably contagious. That, and you had a lap full of hot Panera soup. You sat up a little higher against the bed.

“Blaine…” you managed to choke out. “My soup. You’re gonna spill it.” He looked down at your lap, and smoothly moved said soup to the bedside table once again.

“Oops,” he chuckled, still not moving away. You sat awkwardly, only able to take in Blaine’s face. This… definitely wasn’t normal. You lightly pushed at Blaine’s shoulder.

“I’m still contagious, you know,” you said dryly. You weren’t pushing at him hard enough to actually be a sign of objection, and Blaine knew this, He grinned.

“Is that actually a warning that whatever you have might kill me…” he rolled his eyes, and then brought them back directly to you. “Or would you say it’s… worth the risk?” He put his hand on your arm, and your nerves became butter.

The second before answering, you were frozen. However, the simple invitation left your lips easily. “I mean…” you started, sitting up, face to face to your friend… crush… whatever. “I mean, it’s probably just a little cold.” Soon after that, Blaine had already grabbed the collar of your bed shirt.

He kissed with the charm and the precision that you had always expected of Blaine Anderson. Naturally, the high-maintenance wannabe star’s lips were as soft as you imagined every sleepless night for months, though you did notice some light stubble above his lip to tease him for later. He traced over you with certainty-- Blaine knew what he was doing, and you had doubts that he had any plans to regret it. Your first shared kiss revealed everything you had been pondering; it was sweet, and satisfying, and sadly, short lived.

Just before that first kiss became anything more, you sputtered and choked into an awkward cough. If Blaine wasn’t going to wake up ill tomorrow, he would now. You pushed him away, and hacked for a couple seconds more into your elbow. Despite the inconvenience, you heard Blaine laughing to himself once you had pulled your arm away from your face. He grabbed onto your shoulder, and squeezed sporadically as he struggled to hold in each chuckle. 

“I told you! You should have finished the soup! It would have worked if you would have just listened to me.” He leaned backwards onto your foot-board, cracking a grin. One of his legs was thrown up onto your cover.

You leaned back onto your pillows, staring at the performer in a daze. You knew you were beet red with embarrassment. While you were frozen, not quite understanding what had just happened and if it had been real or not, a smile teased the corners of your mouth. You grabbed the soup cup, which had now cooled down on your end table, and swallowed your second spoonful. It did feel better.

After wiping your mouth, you chuckled a bit. “You really need to shave, dude,” you teased, “I wasn’t even aware you were capable of growing facial hair.”

Blaine rolled his eyes, and put a hand to his forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Y/N,” he laughed, “It’s not like I planned this. Want me to give you heads up next time, or something?”

“Next time?” you repeated cockily. “And you mean you didn’t plan? You seemed really ready,” you smirked to yourself, but you did feel some doubt. Did Blaine’s kiss mean the same as yours? He offered you a side eye that quickly relieved those anxieties. 

“Who plans something like that because their friend gets sick? Not very romantic,” Blaine joked. “I’m not a very good planner anyway… I think wanting to do that for like, months, was all the ‘planning,’” he made air quotes with his fingers, “that I needed when it felt right. Worked out, didn’t it?”

You nodded, in full agreement. “The sick part was weird though… didn’t your friend try something like that on you when you caught the flu?” You recalled him telling you about his friend, Tina, in a similar situation when he was in highschool.

Blaine raised his brows, and snickered lowly. “Oh, so you remember the vapor-rub incident? Tina’s strategy didn’t work for… obvious reasoning.” He gestured vaguely with his hand. “I did feel better though,” he pointed out, “So maybe it’ll be like magic, and if you let me take care of you, you’ll be hopping around just fine by morning?” He held out his hand like an offer.

He was ridiculous. You shook your head, and sighed with a smirk. “If you insist,” you replied with less enthusiasm than you actually felt. Clearing your throat, and pulling your blankets back up to your chest, you decided to put him to work with your first request. “You offered a cup of water, right? That wouldn’t be awful.”

With an overzealous eye roll and his token goofball smile, Blaine stood from your bed and dusted his pants. “Oh, I suppose,” he replied casually. Leaning over you and kissing your still-hot forehead tenderly, he added, “Ibuprofen, also? By the fridge?”

“That’d be nice,” you nodded. He pecked your forehead again, before doing a silly little dance out the door, befitting of him.

You immediately sputtered into another coughing fit. There was no doubt that he would be sick tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> i still fucking hate romie


End file.
